


Better Late Than Never

by EclecticMuse



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Jemma Simmons Has No Chill, Shameless Smut, Smut, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse
Summary: Jemma has been trying to get Fitz's attention for months, in all the wrong ways. When her pièce de résistance outfit fails to catch his eye, she thinks her night is ruined. But it might not be as ruined as she thought...
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 16
Kudos: 134





	Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Traviosita9124](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/gifts).



> This is for the smut prompt "like what you see?" which Traviosita gave me on Tumblr. I decided to take an idea we ever-so-briefly touched upon in one of our RP threads and run with it. Hope you enjoy! I'm ejecting this bit of shameless smut out into the void unedited, so if you catch any errors... go easy on me. :D

Jemma capped her tube of lipstick, then dropped it back in her makeup bag and inspected her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She looked gorgeous, if she said so herself: hair falling in soft waves around her face, eyes done up in a light smoky look, and bold red lipstick to match her bold red dress. She was a knockout, and Fitz wasn’t going to know what hit him.

Nathan, she reminded herself sternly as she took her makeup bag across the hall to her bedroom. _Nathan_ wasn’t going to know what hit him. He was her date for the night, not Fitz—who was just her best friend, colleague, and roommate. Just the first person she saw in the morning every day and the last before she went to bed at night, the person she shared all of her hopes and dreams with, the person who knew her better than anyone else in the world. The person she happened to be madly in love with.

But Fitz barely even noticed she was a woman, let alone a decently-attractive one who was interested in him.

Jemma sighed as she set her makeup bag down on her dresser and went to check her clutch to make sure she had everything she needed. She knew it was poor form to be dating other men when she’d already given her heart away to someone else, but what else was she supposed to do? Pine in silence forever? None of the men she’d seen were looking for anything serious, and surely she was allowed to have some fun. Nothing she had done to try and get Fitz’s attention had worked. He remained as oblivious as ever, leading Jemma to conclude that he’d rather firmly shelved her as a friend and colleague and nothing more.

And yet, she kept trying.

Tonight, for instance. She’d agreed to go out dancing with Nathan, an Ops agent who’d dropped by the lab with his SO to preview some new tech she and Fitz were developing for the field, but only because she wanted to get a reaction from Fitz. She knew it was horrible of her—making her roommate the focus of her date instead of the man she was actually going out with—but again, Nathan wasn’t interested in anything serious. He’d made that clear when he’d asked her out on his way out of the lab. And she’d agreed, because it had presented her with an opportunity.

She had a dress in the back of her closet that she’d never worn before—she’d bought it on impulse, wanting to feel sexy and beautiful, but she’d never had the nerve or the right place to wear it. Now she did. Clubbing was the perfect environment for the tight little red bandage dress that showed off her legs _and_ her breasts, and she looked fantastic in it. Add in her hair and makeup and some killer heels, and she could very well be a showstopper. She knew Nathan would like it, but her real concern was if Fitz would like it.

Surely he would notice she was an attractive woman in this getup. He _had_ to. If she didn’t get a reaction from this dress, she would likely have to resign herself to the reality that he was truly that uninterested in her.

But she was confident. This was it. This was the time she’d knock him senseless.

Checking the time on her phone, she realized Nathan would be there to pick her up at any minute. Slipping her phone into her clutch, Jemma took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and left her bedroom for the living room.

Fitz was seated on the sofa, his laptop in his lap with some documentary on space playing quietly on the telly. She stopped by the edge of the sofa and softly cleared her throat, standing straight and tall. “Well, I’m ready to go out for the evening,” she said cheerfully. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, just some ideas I had for future projects,” Fitz mumbled, his eyes trained on his laptop. “Doing some research.”

Jemma bit her lip. “Don’t forget to have a little fun tonight,” she reminded him. “It _is_ Friday.”

“Yeah, yeah.” His focus remained trained on the laptop screen. “Just, you know, the ideas are really coming.”

Now she was having to fight the urge to stamp her foot. He needed to _look_ at her. “So… any plans for tonight besides research?”

Fitz simply shook his head and tapped at his laptop keyboard, grunting a quiet negative.

Jemma wanted to scream. How could she get his undivided attention without saying _look at me!_ Then her phone buzzed in her clutch, and she took it out to see that Nathan had texted. He was downstairs waiting for her.

“So, um… that was Nathan. Time for me to head out,” she said, still aiming for bright and cheery in the hopes he would look up at her.

But Fitz just pursed his lips. “Alright.”

She felt on the verge of tears. All of this effort, and he wouldn’t even glance at her. “I’ll, um… I’ll see you later?” She was not proud of how her voice wavered.

“Yeah,” he muttered, hitting another key on his laptop. “Have fun.”

_Fat chance of that_ , Jemma thought as she turned to head for the door. Her best effort to get Fitz to notice her had failed miserably, and all she wanted to do now was go back to her room and take everything off and have a good, frustrated cry. But no, she had to put on a good face for her date and at least try to have a good time.

“Wow,” Nathan said when she met him downstairs at the entrance to her apartment complex. “You look _amazing_.”

Jemma sniffed to herself. At least _someone_ appreciated the effort she’d gone to.

-:- 

A few hours later Jemma walked back into her building feeling dispirited and dejected. Her date hadn’t gone too well. The dancing had been alright—the drinks were good, enough to get her buzzed, and Nathan was fine company—but her heart just hadn’t been in it. She was too disappointed over Fitz’s lack of attention. She knew she shouldn’t have let it affect her as much as it did, but it probably spoke to the depth of her feelings for him and how much she desperately _wanted_ him to see her.

So she had eventually complained of a headache (truly, the worst of excuses) and asked to go home. Nathan was disappointed; he’d clearly been hoping to get her home to his apartment, but he’d let her leave without much comment. Now she was heading back up the lift to her floor, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed and have a good sulk over a night wasted.

She slipped off her heels when the lift let her out onto her floor, padding the rest of the way down the hall on bare feet. It felt good. Letting herself into the apartment, she was surprised to see the telly still on. Fitz was awake—she could see his head over the back of the sofa.

“I’m home,” she said unnecessarily, shutting the door behind her and doing up the locks. 

“Already?” she heard Fitz ask. “What, did _Nathan_ prove to be that much of a typical empty-brained Ops guy?”

Jemma ignored the slight against their fellow agent and set her clutch down on the kitchen counter, dropping her shoes to the floor beneath it. She’d worry about it all in the morning. “He was fine,” she replied. “Just… wasn’t really feeling in the mood for dancing after all, I suppose.”

Fitz stood from the sofa. “I probably could have told you that. You’ve never…” He trailed off as he came around the side of the sofa, stopping in his tracks when he saw her. His jaw dropped open as his eyes zeroed in on her dress.

A little thrill sparked in Jemma’s belly. _Finally!_ This was what she’d been hoping to get from him earlier. Opting to play innocent for the moment, she put on an inquisitive face. “I’ve never…?”

Fitz visibly swallowed, his gaze raking her over from head to toe, and if she wasn’t mistaken in the low light of the room, the tips of his ears had gone pink. “Um…” He blinked. “What?”

Jemma wanted to dance. Not only had she gotten him to look at her, she’d completely shut down his brain. Surely he felt something for her if he was staring at her like this. He was being completely obvious about it, too—she couldn’t pretend to ignore it now. Feeling emboldened by her victory, she lifted her chin and said, “Like what you see?”

Fitz licked his lips. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathed, then stopped, averting his eyes. “I mean—um, yeah, you look alright. You look—nice.”

It was too late for him. He’d already given away his true answer and it had Jemma feeling positively giddy, barely able to contain her smile. _He likes it. He likes it!_ She took a step toward him. “Just nice?” she asked in an attempt to fish for more compliments.

Fitz looked hesitantly back at her, like he was afraid of getting in trouble if he did. “Really nice,” he amended quietly after a pause. “You, um… you look fantastic.”

His voice had dropped at least an octave, and something about that sank a hook into Jemma’s gut, tugging at her desire for him. She took another step forward. “That’s what I wanted you to say earlier,” she said softly, still feeling brave. “Before I left. But you wouldn’t look at me.”

Fitz fully looked at her again, his gaze lingering on the dress’s straps before coming back up to her face. His mouth worked noiselessly for a moment, like he was working himself up to saying something. “Didn’t want to see you all dressed up to go out with someone else,” he admitted at length.

He might as well have stamped _I want you_ across his own forehead. Jemma came to a stop just in front of him, feeling like they were poised on the edge of something momentous. Things were finally changing. It left her whole body buzzing, anticipating the next things they might say, admit, do.

“I didn’t dress up for him,” she told him. “I dressed up for you.”

Fitz’s eyes widened. “Jemma…” he whispered.

Hearing him speak her first name, soft and reverent, encouraged her to continue. “I wanted you to notice me. I’ve been trying for months… dresses, blouses, makeup, my hair… but you never noticed. I didn’t even think you realized I was a woman.”

“Oh, I noticed.” His voice had gone rough, too, hoarse with some undefinable emotion. Or maybe it was desire. God, she hoped it was desire. He was looking at her hard enough. “I just didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think what?” she asked, stepping in closer and laying her palms lightly on his chest. Fitz swallowed again and glanced down at her hands.

“Didn’t think you’d want me,” he mumbled, like it was a shameful admission.

That was it. She couldn’t hold back anymore. “ _Fitz_ ,” Jemma whispered, and reached up with one hand to pull him down into a kiss.

She’d intended for it to be soft and sweet, an exploratory first kiss, but Fitz took her by surprise. He responded immediately, groaning against her mouth and wrapping his arms around her to pull her flush to him in a much more passionate kiss. Utterly delighted, she pressed back into him just as fervently. When she felt him, hard against her hip, a sharp jolt of wanting shot straight to her core. He’d gotten aroused just from seeing her in a tight red dress. Wonders abounded.

Working off this revelation, she looped her arms around his neck and went up on her toes to flatten herself against him, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. They both moaned quietly at the first brush of their tongues together and it wasn’t long before they were completely lost in each other, mapping out each other’s mouths as hands began to wander. It was amazing, beyond anything Jemma had expected from Fitz and all so simple yet so erotic to her—the heated slide of their lips together, his arms strong and firm around her, the solid feeling of his body pressed to hers—that it left her feeling drunk and eager for more.

Going back down on the flat of her feet, Jemma slipped her hands down to curl into the fabric of his plain cotton undershirt and started tugging, blindly walking them both backward as they continued to kiss, hot and messy. She’d been aiming for the hallway leading to their bedrooms—either would do—so she was surprised a moment later when she felt herself bump into the kitchen table. But no matter. She didn’t want to take a moment to calm down and regroup and find their way to a bed. She’d waited for Fitz for months, and now that she had him she wanted him _now_.

She let go of him for only as long as it took to hike herself up to sit the table; then she reached out to pull Fitz close again, bringing him between her spread knees and rucking the skirt of her dress up scandalously high. 

Fitz settled his hands on her waist and kissed her thoroughly for a moment—who had taught him to kiss? he was making her head spin—before breaking away to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat, sending sparks skittering down her nerves and making her skin feel oversensitive.

“Fitz,” she sighed, letting her head tip back.

He mumbled something against her pulse point that she couldn’t make out, then skimmed his hands up her ribs until he was cupping her breasts, his palms burning her through the material of her dress. Jemma moaned as pleasure washed through her in a wave from the contact, feeling her nipples grow tight and an ache grow between her legs.

“Bloody perfect,” Fitz muttered as he gave her breasts an experimental squeeze, his voice muffled against her skin. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

That only made Jemma moan again, his words just as galvanizing as his touch. It was everything she’d always wanted to hear from him, and it made her want him more. Letting out a needy noise, she fumbled to grab for his hips and pull him up right up against her so she could feel the outline of his erection against her center. They both groaned in concert again with pleasure, and Fitz’s hips stuttered in her hands as he automatically rolled them into her again.

“Christ, Jemma,” he gasped, repeating the motion and shuddering when it pulled another moan from her. “You—”

“Please,” she begged. Feeling the shape of him through his jeans and how he moved against her had only sharpened the desire she felt, and now she was practically gagging for him. She took his face in her hands and lifted it to push her forehead to his, their noses bumping and breaths mingling. “I want you, _please_ —”

“Here?” When Jemma nodded, Fitz, squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her, messy and fast. “ _Fuck_. Um—we don’t need anything? A, a condom —?”

This time, Jemma shook her head. “IUD, remember?” He had brought her muffins when she’d been laid up in bed with a heating pad after the insertion procedure had given her cramps.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Fitz breathed again with feeling, his hands falling to her waist.

“Yes, that’s the idea.” Feeling giddy and drunk off arousal, Jemma reached for the snap button on his jeans, but a spark of lucidity made her pause. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“No!” Fitz yelped. He clenched his hands into her like she might jump up and leave him. “I mean yes, _yes_ , I absolutely do, _Christ_ , I—I just—I wanted—”

She tilted her chin up to nip gently at his bottom lip. “You wanted…?”

He let out a harsh breath, then kissed her back. “I wanted—wanted to give you—”

_Oh_. He wanted to be romantic. Jemma’s heart softened with a burst of love for him, but only so much. Her need for him was still superseding everything. “Later,” she said. “I promise.” She wound a leg around his hip and tugged. “But right now I need you to fuck me. Right here.”

She could _see_ his irises darken. “Right,” he muttered, his voice dropping again, and promptly leaned in to kiss her once more, hard and passionate and full of the desire she wanted to feel from him. Before she could go after his jeans again, his hands shifted to trail down her thighs, over the skin her skirt had bared; she shivered as a delicious tingle went down her spine, and again as his fingers reversed track to slip beneath what scant propriety remained of her dress.

His touch was almost cautious as his fingers found the waistband of her knickers and curled in, giving a questioning tug; Jemma shimmied in place a bit as they kissed, planting a hand back on the table and lifting her arse to tell him he was free to strip them off. Fitz moved quickly after that, pulling her knickers down and off, dropping them carelessly to the kitchen floor. She had a brief moment to see the way he stepped back to look at her, his eyes filled with equal amounts of awe and lust, before she reached out to finally get his jeans open.

He hissed as she pulled the zipper down over the tent in his boxer-briefs, but she wasn’t interested in teasing him. As soon as his fly was open Jemma grabbed both his jeans and his boxers and pushed them over his hips in one go, letting his cock spring free. It gave her a very dark, vicious thrill to see him bared to her, hard and straining, precome beading at the tip. She had _so_ many plans for him later, once they got their burning need out of their systems. She flashed him a quick smile as she hiked up her skirt the rest of the way and pulled him back between her knees.

The first push of his cock up through her wet folds made her legitimately go weak in the knees for how good it felt, both of them clutching at each other and letting out shaky moans as pleasure coursed through them. They fell into a slow rhythm, figuring each other out, and Fitz slipped a hand into her hair to cradle the back of her head as he pushed his forehead to hers, panting heavily with every stroke against her.

“Are you ready?” he whispered unsteadily. “Because I need—”

“Yes,” Jemma replied immediately, shifting so his next pass notched him at her entrance. It made her breath catch. “ _Please_.”

He paused just enough to give her a kiss of longing, then reached down to grab her hips and thrust carefully in. Jemma’s breath froze in her throat as he filled her up, stretching her muscles and hitting every sensitive spot inside of her. “Fuck, fuck _fuck_ ,” Fitz groaned as their hips came flush, and he dropped his face to nip at her neck. She tugged at his waist, as if she could bring them any closer and push him in deeper, and sighed with pleasure.

Fitz started a slow rhythm just like before, but it didn’t stay that way long; Jemma could feel his growing need in the way he pulled at her with every thrust, faster and harder, until it felt like he was driving her into the table. She slapped a hand down against the wood to stay upright and curled the other around the back of his neck, locking her heels at the small of his back as she peppered his cheek with uncoordinated kisses.

“Oh god, _Fitz_ ,” she gasped, feeling like she was barely holding on to him. “ _God_ you feel so good—”

“You feel fantastic,” he muttered gruffly, his face turned into her neck and mouth sucking up what was sure to be a mark later. “Hot and tight, absolutely perfect, _fuck_ —”

“More,” she begged, urging him to go harder with her heels pressed into his back. “Harder.

Fitz made a noise that sounded almost anguished. “Jemma, I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

Jemma just clutched him tighter as he thrust into her and kissed his cheek again. “I won’t need you to. Please. I’m so close—”

Somehow he found the reserves to piston into her even harder, his hands clenching into her hips deliciously tight, and Jemma was lost. A part of her still couldn’t believe she was here, having hot, dirty sex with her best friend on their kitchen table, but damn if it wasn’t _good_. Great, even. The dim, faraway corner of her mind that was still capable of critical thought could admit that this was the outcome she’d wanted _before_ she’d left for her date, but—better late than never, yes?

Definitely.

Jemma worked to meet Fitz's thrusts as best she could given her position, drowning in everything: his touch, his groans and praises, their ragged breathing, the sound of their joining, the incredible pleasure of his cock hitting every sensitive, secret spot inside of her until it all swirled together to rise up and overwhelm her.

"Fitz," she gasped, digging her nails into his skin, "Fitz, _Fitz_ —"

Her orgasm crested and broke hard, and Jemma cried out loudly as her body seized up before dissolving into shivers, waves of pleasure coursing through her as Fitz's continued thrusts prolonged the sensation. He groaned against her neck as his movements turned disjointed, almost wild, and a moment later he came with a shout, his cock pulsing inside of her as he buried himself to the hilt.

Then there was silence save for the panting of their breath, and the pounding of Jemma's heart in her ears.

After a moment, when the last ringing whispers of pleasure had faded, she lifted her arms to wrap loosely around Fitz, stroking her hands over his back. She felt his lips bloom on her neck in reply, and he carefully worked his way up, kiss after soft kiss, until he reached her mouth, where he pressed in for the gentlest, sweetest kiss she'd ever been given. 

"Can I take you out?" he asked, a whisper against her lips. "For dinner, someplace nice?"

Jemma giggled. She couldn't help it; she was sitting on their kitchen table with her fuck-me dress hiked up, a love bite forming on her neck, and his cock softening inside of her and he was asking her out on a date. It was ridiculous, but oh, how her night had turned out for the better. 

"Yes," she said, nuzzling her nose against his. "I would love to go out with you."

Fitz's face lit up. "Brilliant. I'll, um—hmm. Wait right here." He pulled away from her, both of them hissing slightly at the separation. He tucked himself back into his boxer-briefs and pulled his jeans back up, and Jemma watched as he walked to the sink to fetch a clean rag and wet it down with warm water. Then he brought it back to her. "Here," he said. "To clean up."

She took it from him with a soft smile and quickly cleaned herself up, then set the rag aside to deal with later. She would need to wash the entire table anyway. Then she shifted to slip off the table, pulling her dress back down.

Fitz moved to help her. "That dress," he said, "is criminal."

Jemma laughed again, grateful for his steadying hands with her still-wobbly legs. "Glad you like it," she replied simply. He shook his head, smiling, and folded her into his arms, holding her close. "Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked. "Just to sleep. And… maybe other things. Later."

"Absolutely," Fitz murmured. "I'll stay for as long as you like."

Jemma grinned, taking a step back from him and slipping her hands into his. "Come on, then. Time for bed, I think. You can help me get out of this dress."

It was an absolute delight to see how Fitz's eyes both widened and darkened in interest, and as she turned to lead him out of the kitchen and down the hall to her room, she thought: she'd finally caught Fitz's attention and things were changing for the better in their relationship. The future spread out before them now together, full of possibility. But first, she had plans to get him out of his clothes and into her bed.

It was a great start. 


End file.
